


Well, it's been a while since I've written in this journal

by ballpoint



Category: Marvel, Young Avengers
Genre: Community: comment_fic, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-20
Updated: 2010-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballpoint/pseuds/ballpoint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various fills for different prompts, ranging from fairy tales to a meal at a fancy restaurant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well, it's been a while since I've written in this journal

**Author's Note:**

>   
> **Beta**: None, and I know there are errors here, but still.  
> **Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Kate Bishop/Eli Bradley, Kate Bishop/Tommy Shepherd, Cassie Lang, Billy Kaplan, Thomas Shepherd, Teddy Altman  
> **Rating:** All PG, all the time, bb.  
> **Word count**: over 6000 words, but various stories, so.  
> **Disclaimer**:Characters and situations are the property of Stan Lee and Marvel Comics. No profit is being made off this fan-written work.  
> **A/N**: I need to stop haunting comment_fic during my lunch hour. That place is like crack, true facts. All these prompts are ryuutchi's, I think.

**Three Michelin Stars**

"I hear the lobster bisque is good," Eli said as soon as their maître d whisked their menus away with a sharp snap, and glided away to wherever other world waiters disappeared to, between the order and bringing their food.

"I don't do lobster, seriously." Kate lowered her eyes as she took a sip of her water, her bracelet - slender links of gold- caught and winked in the light.

"Oh." Eli said, looking at Kate again. On a normal day, Kate was pretty, with her eyes partially hidden by her shades, bows in hand and purpose in her movements. Tonight went far beyond that. She did something that made her eyes brighter, and her face glow. Kate, different, but the same, in her signature purple to boot.

"What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

"No, no," Eli shook his head. "I was just - you look like a girl tonight."

Kate narrowed her eyes at Eli, her mouth curving with amusement, her eyes still sober. "That's the worst poetic sentence ever," she said at last.

"Sorry," Eli snickered. "I may have powers, but absorbing epic poetry isn't one of them."

"Says the guy who can quote _Anchorman_ line by line."

"_I'm in a glass case of emotion,_" Eli whispered, keeping his voice down and the mannerisms of the scene muted, in deference to where they were. Kate pressed the backs of her fingers to her mouth, covering her giggle as she scanned the room under lowered lashes. They tried to keep quiet, mindful of disturbing the other patrons even though each table seemed to be its own white topped island on the spread of the floor, and the noise muted as if they were in a room of cotton wool.

" My dad talks about this place, from time to time."

Kate ran her finger along the lip of her drinking glass. Her teeth worried her lower lip, in a rare sign of nerves. Not for the first time they were seated in here, Eli wondered what was up.

"He -my dad- and my mom brought Susan here on her seventeenth birthday for lunch, to celebrate getting the first of the shares in the company. If she -" Kate broke off and cleared her throat.

"If she?" Eli prodded.

Kate stared at her glass for so long, Eli opened his mouth to say something, but Kate continued, "We'd have had roasted vegetable omelettes, with truffles, and the house ice cream for dessert. They were hoping for it to be a tradition. But -" her voice trailed off.

Eli's eyes dropped to the table cloth, took in the complicated settings of the cutlery, the delicate designs on the crockery.

"Kate, I- " he lifted his eyes to hers, placed his hand across the table just so he could touch the back of hers. "I didn't know. I Googled, saw the reviews, the Michelin stars and thought -" he cleared his throat, but the last sentence came out, thick and low with emotion. "Thought that you might have - liked it."

"Yeah, I do," Kate nodded, eyes bright. "I've never been. Only heard, my - I thought about skipping classes and coming once, after my mom - went. But I couldn't. I didn't. I _so_ probably wouldn't have." She wiped a tear away with the tips of her fingers. "So, thanks."

"Happy birthday, Kate." Eli sighed, thinking about how things never worked out the way they should - like not making your friend (girlfriend?) cry on her birthday.

Kate gave a low, watery laugh. "Eli-"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Not the worst birthday ever?"

Kate linked her fingers with his, and shook her head. "No."

 

**Blue Skies **

"Miss Bishop," Timothy Goff, the Secretary of State stood up, crossed over as he made to shake her hand - the non metallic one. "Pleased that you could make it."

"We were lucky," Kate said. "The President is safe?"

"Elijah Bradley was with him, as well as that - other one."

"His name is Thomas Shepherd," Kate supplied as they walked along. "After the help he's given us, I'd have thought -"

"His grandparents were reds, Kate. Better dead than red, I say."

Kate smiled thinly. "They've been dead for years now, and Tommy is as much American as you and me. Speaking of American, is Patriot there?"

"He refuses to leave the President's side until we've gotten him safely out of here."

"That's... what he does."

"Of course," Goff agreed.

"How is he? Still untouched by the radiation?" Kate cast her eye at the murky red streaks in the sky, the quiet of the roads, and wondered if the streets would ever have people walking on them, just using them again.

"It's the strangest thing, that colour-" Goff began.

Kate walked on, not wanting to hear it.

Five minutes later, they were in the oval office - a replica, not the real thing - because of the unsettled times. Outside, skies the colour of constant twilight,a direct result of the fall out from various mushroom clouds that wiped out two states in the distance, but still could be seen from where they were.

By the window, President Russell, all light eyed, sandy haired and American-Irish charm. Beside him stood a man, just taller than him by a head, shoulders wider than his by a breath. He clad in the special under suit that that people had to wear with their special oversuits beyond the buildings, let they became silhouettes when they stepped outside.

At her footsteps tapped into the room, his head jerked up, and he gave a faint smile in her direction.

"Mr President," Kate greeted, holding out her hand to be shook, only for the President to shake her right hand, the one with warm skin and smooth flesh.

"Kate, so glad that you could make it, before I'm whisked off to parts unknown. Messrs Bradley and Shephard - " he angled his head, trying to find the latter, but Kate knew Tommy was half way to wherever right now.

"It's for your own safety, sir." Goff stepped forward. "Before we can do any sort of bargaining, you have to go to ground. Before we meet face to face, there should be preconditions-"

"Tim," the President placed his hand on his SoS's shoulder. "I hear what you're saying, but give me a minute."

"With these two?" The question veered on the edge of a sneer, "these kids are barely out of college, and being caught by fall out doesn't make them authorities, it just makes them -"

"Freaks?" Eli cut in, eyebrows raised.

Timothy Goff narrowed his eyes. "You said it son, not me. But you -"

"I think you should go now, Mr Goff," Kate said, voice cool, on the edges of brittle. "I'd hate for this conversation to be leaked to the fourth estate, regarding the sort of man picked for the Secretary of State. One might believe that you're better off red... than yellow."

"Telling tales to your Daddy, little girl?"

"Sometimes, " Kate smiled, all spun sugared manners now. "He even listens."

Goff turned on his heel and stalked from the room, so flustered, he forgot protocol. Not that the President minded, and he said so. " That might have been uncalled for, Kate. What would your father say?"

"What he always says, 'Kate, come and work for Bishop publishing'. He's given up on the idea of marriage, though, " at this she flexed her cybergenic arm. "I wonder why."

President Russell shook his head, and chuckled. "You're something else, Kate." He grew serious again. "About the USSR - preconditions."

"You don't think Goff is right?" Eli cut in, animated now. Kate was impressed that he managed to hold himself together for so long. He could be impatient at turns. "Not saying that we should join hands and sing camp songs, Mr President, but at least have a sit down with the Russians. Avoid war if we can -" Eli looked outside, and Kate hazarded a guess at his thoughts. About his grandfather, a janitor who had worked at ground zero at the time of the blast when Japan retaliated all those years ago - the legacy of it transformed into his unique biology which got handed down to his grandson. "-Because I don't think we can afford another one."

"Besides, " Kate pushed back her sleeve with her other hand, feeling the cool metal through her gloves, against her palm. "You owe it to us, to all those who are us. In addition, if you're the POTUS who gets to have children on the streets again, who knows? Your second term will be a shoo in."

"Not that I'm doing it for that-" _of course not. Presidents never thought about having an eye to history_. "Give me a day, and I'll get back to you."

"But-"

"A day, Mr Bradley," POTUS Russell cut in, and Kate knew the effort it must have taken Eli to curb his comment, to say what he might have said. "I trust I'll have the answer that you seek, but until then... you'll have to wait. Kate."

With that by your leave, President Russell stepped out, leaving Kate and Eli in the replica of the oval office.

"I don't think we've made any friends, here."

"I don't think I care," Kate snapped, as she crossed her hands under her breasts. "Goff is a toady and a fool."

"But your dad backed him for SoS?"

"I'll have words for him, too." Kate walked over to the windows, not caring about the safety of it, but Eli was there right beside her, and for the first time since this happened, she thought that they might be all right, that they might get through it after all. "I don't care what we have to do to get it, but at the end of the day, Eli, I want blue skies."

** To Tell You Everything**

Eli wondered why Kate hadn't told him.

Oh, he knew Kate tended to play her cards close to her chest. For every verve and daredevil turn she executed on the field, to the point of recklessness at times, off the field and in her personal life, she was circumspect to the point of constructing an invisible force field over everything.

"You don't want me there," he said, pot of flowers in hand. Cassie had hinted that she liked African orchids - the ones from Madagascar especially- with their purple tips, or even rainbow roses if his finances couldn't stretch to the former. Eli being a guy, regarded flowers as flowers, but hey, a strategy was a strategy.

"Eli," Kate took the flowers from his hands and stroked them with the tips of her fingers. Eli had looked at her long enough and often enough during their times together, and knew the signs to watch out for if she liked things. She'd stroke them gently with her fingers, and give that faint smile, her features soft, just for that instant, before going back to default Kate face. "Orchids," Kate closed her eyes and gave them a quick sniff. "And they're in a pot too, how sweet. Thank you."

"If I'd known about your performance this evening, I'd have arranged time off from work- or something."

They were in her room, decorated in neutrals, down to the maple parquet of the floors underfoot. The only thing that made the room seem _hers_, was the scent of her perfume, arrows and bows hanging from brackets on the walls. Posters of Carnegie Hall, and a bullseye. On her bed lay a slip of a dress, with a steamer beside it, and the case containing her cello.

"It's just a recital," Kate placed the pot of flowers on the bedside table, before picking up the steamer wand, and bending over her dress. With a press of the button on its wand, it hissed to life, and Kate held it a short distance away from the garment, its wrinkles disappearing as she passed the wand over the material. "It's something that I do, that's not related to you guys."

"But -" Eli began, struggling not to shout over the steam wand doing its work. Kate's hair fell over her shoulder, she still clad in her uniform, as her hands worked on the dress, tugging and smoothing the pleats into place.

"Kate," Eli leaned over, and placed his hand over her wrist. "Humour me, please."

On a sigh, she switched her steamer off, and raised her head to meet his gaze. He was close enough to see the thick fringe of her lashes, the little pearl earrings she wore in her ear lobes.

"Okay, this is me, humouring you, Eli. You have sixty seconds to speak to me before I get done. Make it count."

"I'm not trying to crowd you, or anything. I'm _not_," he stressed as Kate sighed and briefly closed her eyes. "But I wish -"

"I can't give you everything."

"You don't give me _anything_, and no, it's not about _that_, so don't even." Eli read the mutiny in the pout of her mouth, and the slight narrowing of her eyes.

"_God_, Eli, what else do you want? I support the team, I do all of this - with my father's money, true, but still-"

"No," Eli shook his head. "That's the team, business, and we've established that with or without your funding, we'd have done this anyway."

"Oh," Kate sneered. "So this is about _us_ ?"

"Yeah," Eli said, trying to keep his voice even, feeling his cheeks and ears heating with emotion. "It's about the fact that your school has a concert on, and you're doing a solo, and Cassie only knowing because she reads the odd society blog. Or your mom's memorial being last week, and it's mentioned in passing in _The New York Times_. It's about that. It's - " he broke off, smoothing his hand over the fussy pleats of the gown. "Seeing you in this, and teasing you about you in a dress, but secretly thinking about how nice you look. 'S all."

The quiet filled the room after that little confession, and Eli made to move away, only for Kate to turn and frame his face in her hands, cool fingers against his cheeks. Her eyes sober. "Eli," she murmured, before pressing her mouth against his, and because he was weak where Kate was concerned, Eli angled his head to deepen the kiss, before they broke away, her forehead resting against his.

"I'm sorry," Kate whispered, her hands still flushed against his cheeks. "That's - I - " she shook her hair back from her shoulders. "Next time I play, I'll invite you all, okay? On one condition."

"Oh yeah?"

"If I look nice in a dress, no secrets, I want to hear about it. Ditto on if I look like a goof."

"Okay."

"I'm trying, Eli."

"I know," Eli covered her hands with his. "I know."

** The Secret To Winning At Rock, Paper, Scissors**

Tommy never thought that he'd have stayed with this outfit (and truthfully, in his outfit) for this long.

Yesterday - or six months ago - (time moved almost as fast as he did) being in that tin can which dampened his powers, and being poked and prodded. Vibrating the molecules on every inch of his body, pushing to the limit of his powers, just waiting on the one weak link between him and freedom, only to be thwarted and rescued by - and at this, he could only smile wryly at his now empty plate - _The Young Avengers_.

"Nooo, I'm _not_ doing the dishes again," Cassie shook her head. "Nah uh, can't make me."

"Paper, rock, scissors?" Billy held up a hand. They were in the YA's dining room - huge due to the fact that in another life, it had been a former canteen for about fifty people on this floor. By all rights, it should have been cavernous, their words bouncing from walls in echoes; but Tommy had to admit, that together, all seven of them filled a room.

"I thought we decided on a rota?" Kate picked up her noodles with her chopsticks. Tommy had to hand it to Kate. In addition to being a total _babe_, she had class all the way. Lacquered bowls with matching chopsticks, and an askance glare for the wooden disposable ones that came with their meal. Tommy made sure to eat with them always, because Kate did look _cute_ when annoyed.

"Even though we decided on a rota because there are seven of us?" Eli's voice there. Unlike Kate, he had nothing to recommend him when he became annoyed, but getting under his skin brought fun times.

"Paper, rock, scissors?" Cassie's mouth firmed. "You're on."

"Billy, Billy." Teddy chanted, jostling Vision's shoulder with his own, and Tommy felt the vibration of the movement across the table, and with a swift hand, he grabbed at his glass before it toppled and spilt its contents across the table. Teddy might have have been all right, really, with his easy going nature and his unfailing devotion to his boyfriend, but Tommy would never say. Besides, he had a brother's prerogative to tease. That's what bigger brothers did.

"Logic assumes that you go for scissors, Cassie, since rock will be the most popular of the three moves in the game due to -"

"Scissors cuts paper!" Cassie howled with glee, cutting across Jonas' summations by jumping and clapping. "I win!"

"Yeah," Billy held his hands up in supplication. "A deal is a deal."

Cassie grinned, a dangerous light in her eye as she said, "Dessert?"

"That's a sucker's bet." Billy laughed. "You're on."

***

"Dessertless, and washing dishes," Tommy quipped later, as he leaned against the counter, the weight of his body resting on his elbows. "I can't _ believe_ we're related."

Billy dipped a dish into sudsy water, and srubbed at the bits of food with the minature scrub brush. Kate and Cassie had been the first ones to prance from the room, giggling and whispering, arms around each other's waists. Eli did a quick glance at his watch and hot tailed out of there, before his grandma got suspicious. Teddy dragged Vision by the arm, proclaiming, "No man, you _need_ to try this game."

Tommy stayed behind, watching as Billy gathered up the dishes, with the grace and ease of a chore done hundreds of times before, and well managed. Leftover food all on one plate to one side, crockery stacked with the white noise of running water in the background, cutlery gathered up, with the sharper utensils put to one side, so fingers never got accidentally sliced on a sharp knife edge. Billy looked like less than kick ass Wiccan and more like a geeky younger brother, with his _Where's Waldo_ stripped long sleeved shirt, and oversized combats. He had yet to outgrow the gawk -or the geek.

The sun had long set, and outside the night and lights beckoned. Normally, Tommy would have been running right now, fast enough so that water wouldn't ripple. Fast enough to cause Kate's hair to tumble wildly around her shoulders, to where the world disappeared into mute and a soft light. But he found himself not wanting to move here, not yet. Watching Billy stacking and putting dishes in the sink, soft enough for the water to take them with a quiet gulp, with suds and bubbles catching and making rainbows of the lights overhead. Tommy never did chores willingly, not back in New Jersey, and sure as hell not here, when he did them so slow, it might have been normal human speed.

"And no powers, too," he huffed, just to get a rise from Billy. "Dude, that's _bogus_."

"A promise is a promise. Besides, Cassie's been dumped on enough already."

"Still."

"I don't expect you to understand," Billy scraped at a spot on the glass with this thumb, the glass surface squeaking with the motion.

"Because I'm the team sociopath?"

"Because I've seen you do dishes."

Tommy laughed, then stopped. "What? I _so_ do great dishes. What's dishes got to do with anything, anyway? "

"It's more than dishes," Billy transferred the soapy dishes to the dish water. "It's pulling along and hanging together. It's making sure that if one person can't do the dishes that night for whatever reason, we get over it, knowing that they'll chip in next time."

"That's totally reaching," Tommy angled his head towards Billy.

"I'm my mom's child." Billy flashed a grin before it quickly faded. "I mean, the one I grew up with, and -"

Tommy pushed himself off the counter and grabbed a towel. He knew when Billy got that look in his eyes; a mixture of desolation and determination.

"C'mon slowpoke," he threw the towel in the air, grabbed it from the air as quick as a whip.

"I'm not doing magic, Tommy." Billy said in that tone Tommy knew well by now. Still quiet, but one which brooked no opposition or argument.

"I'm not asking you to," Tommy grabbed a dish and started to wipe it, slow style like. "I'm helping you."

"Oh _kay_ then. If we finish, we might make it in time before Teddy does his solo for _Guitar Hero_."

Tommy only reached for another dish, dried and stacked it on to the other dish. He never expected to stick around with this outfit, true. But, he thought as Billy handed him a plate this time, he might stay awhile longer.

**An Agreement Over Coffee and Torrone**

Derek Bishop, being a man of many means, had grown accustomed to getting his way. After all, when one had enough means at his disposal, the by product of leverage and social cachet made other people's views agreeable to his, as it were.

Except for his daughter and that young man she insisted on clinging to, along with that motley crew of theirs. He pushed that thought away and focused on the woman who sat opposite him. Her features no less serious than his, as the waiter whisked their menus away, his face not betraying the fact that although they were at the best restaurant in the Tri State area, they weren't here to eat.

" Your daughter," Faith Shabazz said, her voice a fluid alto. A fine, rich voice that Derek might have appreciated if he were in a better mood.

"Your grandson." Derek spread the photos out in front of him as if they were a deck of tarot cards, all painted faces up. Kate and Eli, either together alone, or with the rest of that motley crew she chose to align herself with, as if she hadn't had the best schools and companions that her station offered.

Faith's fingers touched the edge of a photo, one with Kate and Eli smiling, despite the crush of the other teenagers in the photograph. In that wink of time, when they thought the world had taken its gaze from them, they looked at each other, and beamed.

"Oh, _Eli_," Faith gave a great lusty sigh that had touches of sadness, and Derek found that that reaction didn't sit well with him at all.

"Kate isn't the problem, here. I assure you."

"And Eli is? Mr Bishop -"

"Derek."

"Derek," Faith breathed, the introduction allowing her to collect her composure. He knew by the way she carefully turned the picture so it faced her fully, still touching the edges of the photograph with the tips of her nails. Faith had a great poker face, the only hint of her discomfort the slight quirk of her lips.

"They are - they don't suit. I'm sure Eli is a nice boy and all that but -"

"We let them be."

"What?"

"We let them be," Faith tapped the photo with the tip of her fingernail. "As much as I don't want to, we let them be. They are teenagers, if we tell them no, they're going to rebel out of sheer contrariness."

"Not that Kate needs an excuse to rebel. She just needs to breathe." Derek poked at another another picture, with them in a carriage in Central Park and that might have been past her curfew. He needed to check.

"Eli is no better, I assure you."

Derek leaned back in the chair, looked around him before looking at Faith. Their voices, however soft, echoed in the empty room - he had paid for two hours of time for this special meeting. Only to get an answer he didn't want, and something told him that no amount of money or social leverage would change the outcome.

"You're not going to intervene."

"No. As much as I want to protect both of them from their own mistakes - " Faith gave a small, sad smile at the photo in front of her. "Especially Eli - I can't."

"Kate would not -" Derek rubbed his temples in exasperation, and rested his elbows on the table. "Christ," he hissed.

Gone was the tycoon of New York, and in his place, a wreck of a father worrying for his daughter. Eleanor, he thought, seeing his daughter's face behind closed eyelids, I miss you. However, Faith was right. Kate had to go out there, and grow. Although she'd grown up too quickly, and seen and felt too much.

"I'm sorry that I wasted your time." The apology was heartfelt, and possibly heart bruised.

"I'm not," Faith nodded, taking in the décor of their surroundings. "I've always wondered if Alto's reputation was well deserved."

He mightn't have been able to save Kate, Derek thought, but this bit he could do. "May I suggest the Filetto de Villeto con Gremolata? Followed by their Torrone? It is exquisite."

 

** The Purple Glass Girl**.

_The Princess - sort of_

In olden days, they used to tell tales of pretty heroines, and how they might either be trapped in a tower, or drugged into slumber, or tied to a rock, waiting on a prince to come and save them. As their reward for waiting and hoping, they got married to their princes and became princesses, and they lived happily ever after, the end.

Of course, those tales are so millienia ago. Come to me, boys and girls of the i generation and the LJ. Of twitterverse and tumblr. Draw near, over wheatgrass juices, bodies warmed and taut from pilates class, minds strengthened by therapy and allow me to spin thou a tale.

The heroine of this tale wasn't a princess, no. Nor was she a noblewoman. Her non royal status due to the fact that her province was a part of a Republic, which got rid of their king an age before. Although she wasn't royalty, Kate (for that was her name), might well have been, born into luxury which afforded her to live like one. You see, Kate's father traded in printed missives, which the providence bought for coin, for it told them news near and far. In addition to these printed missives, he also controlled a considerable market share of electronic outlets. On the notes of Wall Street, he was never subjected to the claw of the Bear, but always the push of the Bull.

Kate and her mother Eleanor were also aware of what poorer people did with the printed missives that the Bishops produced. They stuffed them in their clothing as insulation against the cold, or fed them into their fires of wee soup tins. These were the people who interested Eleanor, and as such, Kate. Both did good works, and when Eleanor got slain as a result of a crime against her person, Kate continued the work in her mother's memory.

Her sister, Susan, would gently josh and jeer, like older siblings are wont to do.

"Oh Kate," Susan would say."We already give to charity, and feed the poor. You already saw how that overwhelmed Mama, to her great detriment. Also, shall I go with the Armani, or go with Wang? Everyone wears Wang. Also my colours, coffee or purple?"

" The coin for your wedding could feed a village in Niger for a thousand years," Kate would roll her eyes and sigh as no nonsense girls did when faced with frippery. But because she too loved a good handfasting with its pomp and ceremony, she thought about her sister's question and answered, "Armani. Purple."

While invitations were sent far and wide for her sister's wedding, and the town criers and scribes wrote and spake at length about Susan's upcoming nuptials and how _well suited_ the couple were, Kate still kept to schedule. School in the mornings and high afternoons. Classes, music lessons. In the evenings, soup kitchens, smiling despite the stench and closeness of the members, her sleeves rolled up, her school jacket shucked to the side, over the back of the chair. Then, afterwards, she'd hitch her Lacrosse case over her shoulder, and walk through the park.

At this time of day, the sun would be behind the trees, the leaves rustling underfoot, the air a cold gust of breath on her face. Kate knew the park, the slip and tilt of hills. Found a comfort in other people's steps being muffled by the leaves, the giggles of other people. Even though the park was in the middle of the city, Kate liked to think that she was alone in the woods, a little red riding hood using her wiles to outfox a wolf.

Pity, this, that Kate didn't realise that in these urban spaces, wolves don't ask, or say how-di-do. They sneak up from behind, and overpower, and drag you into the darkness. The ground underfoot slips and trips and no matter how loud you scream or hard you cry, sometimes, no one will hear you.

_The Not so Prince_

Again, due to the province being a Republic, there's still no royalty in this story. But like in any sort of fary tale, the stout of heart and poor will always be with us. Eli came from a long line of soldiers, who were called to serve their country although they weren't recognised for their valour and derring-do, or even the fact that they were _people_. In spite of that, or whether because of it, Eli answered the call of the Lad of Iron, who also brought the Warlock and the shapeshifter. Together, they battled small time knaves which patrolled around the neighbours, and went from hither and yon.

He wore the uniform of blue and scarlet, his face covered by a mask, his hands hidden by scarlet gloves.

There are other tales to be told about Eli, such as: how he came by his powers, a story about love and anger and his odds with this society which still had hierarchies, despite no princesses or kings, but these are stories for another time. To be told over a draught of wine, with chopsticks and sushi and an open mind.

As it is, our hero and his companions found themselves at St Patrick's, almost overcome by their own complacence and inexperience. Shots fired, and Eli coming face to face with Kate for the first time.

"I'd have rescued you eventually," Eli grunted, getting nothing but impressions in the heat of battle - a slip of a girl in a purple dress and sharp elbows. Little did he know, and was soon to learn, that in this part of the world, some damsels saved themselves.

"Don't bother to thank me for anything," Kate said, hands and nerves steady, as she levelled the gunman's weapon at the gunman himself, because this Kate wasn't the almost but not princess that existed at the start of this story. Her experience had made her different, more brittle, more obscure although from the same materials as before, like sand versus purple glass.

_On The Same Side_

In older fairy tales, courtships are the most straightforward of things. Prince rescues girl, girl becomes a princess, and they live happily ever after on the prince's name in a kingdom with their fond and loving subjects, time a stretch of infinity, happiness a shield against heartbreak.

Not in this tale.

"I just want us to be friends," Kate said, her fingers still wrapped around the stems of the lilacs Eli gave her, the clip clop of horses' hoofs, the sway and jerk of the carriage making the moment more awkward, because the mood was set for _intimacy_.

"I - yeah. For the good of the team." Eli answered thickly, and she could only see the back of his head from her lowered lashes as he looked outside the window, seeing the trees and shadows and not the wolves that preyed on girls like her.

Kate discreetly glanced at her watch, and blinked the grit of tears from her eyes. Not out of a love that daren't speak its name, dear reader, but out of frustration that she _wanted _ to be this way- unattached. Liked feeling this way, emotions sheened by glass- but hated having to shatter someone's dreams because of it. But Kate had learnt the value of rescuing oneself the hard way, and resolved not to put herself be in that situation ever again. Just fifteen more minutes to go, on the carriage ride, she knew, and wished that happiness wasn't so hard won.

Emotions are flexible, mutable. There is a reason why emotions are compared to chemicals; some are inert, and stable to the point of non movement, whilst others are electric and charged, as they react to others.

Kate found herself being wooed by Tommy, the green eyed, silver haired mercury footed one of the lot. He swept her off her feet, arms under her knees and supporting her back, as the providence of New York City zoomed by both of them at three hundred miles an hour - slow enough, he told her, so that she could see the sights. Fast enough, she knew, to keep her heart spinning, her hair flying around her shoulders and head as if they transmuted into wings.

"Kiss me, Kate," Tommy grinned, and Kate turned her head away, Tommy's lips dragged across her jaw. In less time than it takes to say 'stop', Kate found herself stood on her feet, Tommy's hands on her shoulders, and him crouching slightly so that their eyes met.

"It's like that, is it?"

"Like what?" Kate retorted, more along the lines of a statement than a question because they both knew.

"Like the fact I lost, and Eli won, but he doesn't know it." A pause as he looked at her, and shook his head, the expression on his face incredulous. "Ha, this is hilarious, you don't know it either."

"I'm not a prize or a _thing_," Kate's cheeks grew hot, as she hugged herself with her arms. Not because of the chill, no, but because she feared cracking open. Kate valued the _composure_ of her form, and tried to be careful.

"Relax, princess," Tommy's hands were tucked in the back of his pockets as he looked at the view below. "You're not a thing," he agreed, and Kate felt herself growing warm at the fact that her viewpoint was accepted.

"But you are a priz- yeah. Has anyone told you, you can shoot _daggers_?"

"I need to get home."

Tommy did, even faster than he took her away, and deposited her at the doorstep of their HQ. Kate stepped out of the circle of his arms, feeling the air snapping and crackling around them both. They had been team mates long enough for Kate to read the moods - and surprisingly, impatience won over annoyance, or disappointment, and Kate wondered how long Tommy had known.

"Hey," she began, reaching out to touch his arm, only to feel the gust of air tugging at her clothes and hair. Tommy might have been half way to China by now, but Kate raised her hand, and gave a small wave. "Thanks."

With new determination, Kate strode up the stairs, dragging the sleeves of her pullover down to the tips of her fingers, due to the chill in the air. Her hand on her heart, as if to will the emotions back, those that scratched and pecked at the surface of her person, and it might have been vexing, exciting. For a fleeting moment, Kate wondered if she could have left it, turn left and strode to her room, closed the door and smoothed the cracks from her shell.

Only for a moment, before Kate stumbled upon Eli in the old fashioned drawing room, playing scrabble with Cassie. Both of their knees bumping against each other, under the surface of the entirely too small table, but Eli had always been a man for sentiment, and so the table stayed. Kate stood at the door, as she watched them both, her forehead resting against its surface. The twilight outside showed the evening, their forms lit by the lamp standing straight and tall in the corner. Cassie shot to her feet, rested her knuckles on the table , leaned over and glared at him.

"This is so not _over_, Eli. So. Not. Over."

Eli only shook the bag, with the high jingle of scrabble pieces within. "To be the man, you gotta beat the man." he grinned at Cassie's retreating back, and Kate shook her head in sympathy. Cassie couldn't abide losing to anyone or anything.

"You beat her again?"

"It's strange the things you pick up at the library."

"Are you up for another game?"

Eli reached for his notepad, and flipped to a clean page. In scrappy script, Eli wrote GAME ON, and underneath, their names. Kate sat down in place of Cassie, her knees bumping against Eli's, and she ducked her head, so Eli wouldn't see her blush.

Kate was a better player than Cassie, but then she had a year of SAT prep behind her, and an hour later, Kate almost a breath from success, when Eli got stumped looking at the letters in front of him, with only two scrabble tiles in the palm of his hand. For the first time, Kate lowered her guard just a fraction, and entertained the possibility. Eli, how did he get from an annoyance who almost got her and her sister killed, to the know it all loud mouth whom she wanted to kick to well, now? Someone that she might want to take a chance on, although it might hurt.

"Eli -"

"I'm thinking," he said. "There must be a word that starts with -"

"Yes," Kate said.

"With a Q?"

"No," Kate reached across and grabbed his forearm, feeling the thick pad of muscle underneath. "Me. Yes to carriage rides in the park, or whatever happens on dates."

"Kate," her name a sigh, as Eli shook his head, the emotions on his face naked and there. "That was six months ago."

"I know," she said. "I know. I'm not sorry about what I said, because I'm _not_. But I'm sorry about hurting you."

"Kate -"

"Say 'Yes', Eli," she squeezed his wrist.

"Qi -Chinese for 'energy flow'. Ha, I win."

"Huh." Kate raised her eyebrows as she surveyed the board between them, and nodded. "So you did."

"Because I'm magnanimous in my win," Eli smiled and Kate smiled back. "Yes," he said, and Kate placed her hand in his and they lived happily ever after.

Or well, as much as one can live happily, as long as one understands that happiness is mutable, changing and relative.

The End.


End file.
